Page 112 of Fool Me

Atlas turns back to me then, and his entire expression crumbles. He rushes to my side as they lift me into the ambulance.

“I’m okay,” I try to whisper. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not,” he says, voice trembling. “But you will be.”

I want to reach for him, but I’m strapped down. He climbs in next to me and takes my hand instead, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. “I thought I lost you.”

“You didn’t.”

He leans in, forehead pressed gently to mine. “I didn’t even get to tell you I love you,” he murmurs. “Not the way I wanted to.”

My breath catches painfully.

“I do, though,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at me. “I love you, and you deserve to hear it somewhere better than the back of an ambulance, but I need you to know. I thought I had time to tell you, and then I got your call.”

Tears sting my eyes as the EMT puts the oxygen mask on. I try to convey what I’m feeling with a look—that I love him too.

The hospital is a blur of lights and motion, people talking over one another. I’m poked and prodded, asked about a million questions, all of which I try to answer through my fog, but Atlas is always there. A steady presence through it all.

The curtain guarding my door flies open.

“Aspen?” I croak, sitting up too fast as she barrels into the room, still in her scrubs.

“Oh my god, Harlowe.” She throws her arms around me, careful but fierce. “I heard—God! Are you okay? What happened?”

Before I can answer, the door bursts open again and the whole crew floods in—Tessa with wild eyes, Briar biting back tears, Denver at his wife’s back, fists clenched, Sloane wide-eyed and pale, and even Drake hangs back in the doorway, watching his sister shake as she hugs me.

One by one, they step up. The girls fuss over me while Drake and Denver tell me they’re glad I’m okay.

It’s overwhelming—a tidal wave of care and concern and panic.

Atlas steps between them and me, calm and firm.

“She’s okay,” he says, voice clear. “She’s gonna be okay, but she needs rest. So all of you? Out.”

They grumble, protest, but one look at him, and they shuffle forward to give me hushed goodbyes before leaving.

He closes the door after them and returns to me, brushing a strand of hair off my forehead.

“Just us now,” he says softly.

“Good,” I whisper back, because it is. He’s all I need and all I want.

CHAPTER

FORTY-ONE

ATLAS

I’ve been sitting in this vinyl chair for hours, legs stretched out and cramping, hand curled gently in hers. The room is still—machines humming, lights down—but I don’t dare close my eyes. Not until she’s home safe.

She stirs sometime around six.

Just a soft sigh, a twitch of her fingers in mine. I lift my head, careful not to startle her, watching as her lashes flutter open and she blinks up at the ceiling like she’s not sure if it’s real.

“Hey,” I whisper, squeezing her hand.

Her head turns toward me. “You didn’t leave.”

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